“Grizzie,” repeated Cosmo, “I want a can’le.”
She went grumbling, and brought him the miserable end.
“Hoot, Grizzie!” he expostulated, “dinna be sae near. Ye wadna, gien ye kenned what I was aboot.”
“Eh! what are ye aboot, sir?”
“I’m no gaein’ to tell ye yet. Ye maun hae patience, an’ I maun hae a can’le.”
“Ye maun tak what’s offert ye.”
“Grizzie, I’m in earnest.”
“’Deed an’ sae am I! Ye s’ hae nae mair nor that—no gien it was to scrape the girnel—an’ that’s dune lang syne, an’ twise ower!”
“Grizzie, I’m feart ye’ll anger me.”
“Ye s’ get nae mair!”